


there's a strange force in your kiss

by supernope



Series: Take Me Home tour ficlets [5]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Touring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 05:49:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernope/pseuds/supernope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another Take Me Home tour ficlet, featuring lunch dates and intermission make-outs. Set in New York.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's a strange force in your kiss

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my docs for ages, and I was inspired to re-open it after the picture of Harry posted on the official 1D instagram account last night. Thanks for that, 1DHQ!
> 
> Title taken from [I Got](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ji7B_54Cp_A) by Young the Giant.
> 
> I should not have to ask this, but PLEASE DO NOT RE-POST MY FIC ANYWHERE. If I find out that my fic has been re-posted to any site, I will report that person to the site for plagiarism, whether credit was given to me or not.

Harry loves New York. It’s big and busy and so much easier to get lost in the crowd, because everyone walks with a purpose, eyes on the ground or straight ahead, too busy to pay attention to their surroundings. Even in late June, when it’s warm and humid and the city is crawling with tourists, there’s so much to see and do, and excitement thrums through him at the prospect of being able to get lost in the city with Louis for once.

On Friday morning, they have an interview with one of the local radio stations’ breakfast shows, then a few hours off before they have to leave for Wantaugh. After the interview is over – standard questions about the movie, the third album, touring and, of course, girlfriends – Paul gathers them together in the lobby of the station.

“Alright lads, if there’s anything you want to do before soundcheck, it’s best you leave from here, because if you go to the hotel first you’ll be mobbed by fans.” Paul looks pointedly at Harry and Louis, and Harry bites his lip around a smile, looks over at Louis and shrugs.

“Lunch?”

 

Harry, Louis, Niall, and Preston end up at a hole-in-the-wall Mediterranean joint a few blocks over, beanies pulled low over their foreheads and sunglasses on. It’s not exactly the most exciting of outings, but it’s a lunch date, and Harry will take it. They order and sit in a booth toward the back of the small shop, away from the windows. Louis shuffles around on the bench, drapes his leg across Harry’s knee, and Harry hides his smile by taking a bite of his falafel and curls the other around the top of Louis’ thigh under the table, fingernails catching on the inseam as he scratches at his leg through the denim.

Niall shakes his head at them as he licks tzatziki sauce off his arm, shares an eye-roll with Preston.

“It’s been more’n two years,” he says, gesturing between Harry and Louis with his gyro, “and he still smiles like  _that_  just because Lou’s touching him.”

Preston shrugs and aims a small smile at Harry and Louis, says around a bite of his own gyro, “I think it’s nice.”

Louis says, “Good man,” and Harry beams at him, affection swelling in his chest, and declares that Preston is his favorite. Niall scoffs and kicks out at Harry’s ankles, but then he clasps both of his feet around one of Harry’s legs and leaves them there while they finish their lunch.

 

That night before the show, Louis clambers into Harry’s lap in the dressing room and presses their foreheads together, pets his fingers over Harry’s collarbones and murmurs quietly to him. He’d been a bit off at their previous show in Boston and had sounded a little rough at soundcheck earlier, has been mainlining tea and slowly working himself up into a knot of nerves ever since. Harry grips at Louis’ hips and takes deep breaths, the tightness in his chest slowly easing with the brush of Louis’ eyelashes against his cheek.

Just before they go on, Liam clasps Harry’s shoulder, thumb rubbing over the nape of his neck as he passes him to go stand on his launch pad. Louis squeezes his hand and presses a messy, hasty kiss to his mouth before walking over to his own, keeps his eyes locked on Harry’s until someone shouts at them to get ready, and then they’re being raised out onto the stage and the screams are deafening, the humid heat of the amphitheater almost oppressive.

They’re all sweating by the time they get through Up All Night, but Harry already feels more relaxed. Louis keeps catching his eye and giving him reassuring nods, corner of his mouth quirked up into a small, private smile. He even risks a wink while he’s got his back turned to the audience during Heart Attack, and Harry has to look down to hide the grin that stretches across his face.

With no ceiling to support the platform, they don’t get to fly over the audience at this venue and it’s a little disorienting, but it gives them a bit more freedom on the larger stage. Harry jogs up the stairs and sings part of Last First Kiss to Josh, who winks and makes a show of blowing him a kiss. During Moments, Louis surprises Harry by grabbing his shoulder and tugging him in to whisper into his ear, voice low and raspy, “You’re going to pay for that one later, babe.”

Heat ripples through Harry’s body at the intent behind Louis’ words. He stares dumbly at Louis as he backs away with a nod, eyes dark and intense, and everything around them fades to white noise, everything but Louis blurs out. He almost misses his cue to sing, only catches it at the last moment because Niall trots over and pinches his side. He pulls it off though, reels Niall in to make it look deliberate and manages to stay on key and on time for the rest of the song as he tries desperately not to think about what later might bring.

The segue into Back For You is smoother without having to deal with getting off the moving platform, and Harry tracks Louis unconsciously as he walks over to the back of the stage for a drink of water while Liam sings. Louis catches him watching, raises an eyebrow and hollows his cheeks around the mouth of the bottle, and Harry chokes on absolutely nothing, turns around and stares blindly out at the audience while he catches his breath.

His gaze keeps darting back to Louis throughout the rest of song, though, he can’t help it. His quiff is wilting under the humid heat, shirt damp and sticking to his back, and he keeps smirking out at the crowd as if he’s aware of Harry’s eyes on him. He probably is, knows exactly what he’s doing when he bends a little at the waist and bounces up and down on his toes while he sings. And when he tilts his head down and looks over at Harry through his lashes during his solo at the end, quirks an eyebrow at him on the last line, Harry has to turn his back on Louis completely.

His eyes land on Zayn, who gives him a questioning look, scans over Harry’s wide eyes and flushed face, but Harry just twitches his head to the side in weak attempt at reassuring him and takes his place on his little platform, waits impatiently for the song to end and for the pad to lower them down under the stage.

The moment they step off the platforms, Louis is fisting a hand in the back of Harry’s shirt and dragging him off behind one of the pillars that support the stage.

“Lou,” he protests weakly. “We have to change –“

Louis cuts him off with a kiss, hard enough that his teeth cut into the inside of his lip, and Harry makes a muffled noise against Louis’ mouth, surprised and a little pained and extremely turned on. He lets Louis press him up against the pillar while the sounds of their intermission video play above and around them, lets Louis press his fingers into his hips with bruising force as they kiss, hot and open mouthed and rushed.

He can already feel Louis hard against his thigh, bends his knee and presses it up between Louis’ legs until he lets out a rough moan and starts to rut against him, one hand shifting around to grip at the pillar behind Harry’s head. Louis slides his other hand up Harry’s chest, yanks the collar of his shirt aside and sinks his teeth into Harry’s collarbone. Harry gasps, stares blindly at the underside of the stage and clutches at Louis’ sides as he laves his tongue over Harry’s skin.

He can feel the music from the intermission video thrumming through his body, can feel his pulse throbbing in every pressure point and under Louis’ lips as he sucks a mark into his collarbone, the hard press of Louis’ hip against his own erection, and he’s already so close to coming in his pants that he has the vague feeling he should be embarrassed by it. He can’t really muster up the energy though, is just sliding a hand down to palm Louis’ ass and drag him closer when Liam appears out of nowhere with their shirts clutched in his hands and an apologetic smile on his face.

“Sorry lads,” he says cheerfully as Louis groans and reluctantly takes half a step back, “but we’ve got about one minute before we need to be back on stage. Cool yourselves down unless you want some very...incriminating videos going up on youtube later tonight. Cheers.”

He tosses their shirts at them and takes off.

Louis stares blankly down at the t-shirt and denim jacket in his hands, and Harry watches him as he begins to unbutton his shirt. By the time he’s drawn his shirt off, Louis still hasn’t moved, so he sticks his leg out and nudges him gently with his knee.

“Lou, you have to change.”

Louis snaps into action at that, tugs his baseball tee off and yanks the new t-shirt on in its place. Harry hears Niall call out for them from over by the platforms and he whips his own shirt on, grabs Louis’ jacket out of his hands and tosses it on the ground. It’s too hot for it anyway. Louis grabs one of Harry’s hands, holds it in both of his while he takes a few calming breaths, then drops it with an annoyed laugh and a shake of his head so he can shove a hand down the front of his trousers and adjust himself.

Harry lets out a strangled laugh and says, “This is a disaster, we can’t –“

But then Liam is back, hand around one of each of their elbows as he drags them back over to their platforms. Harry can hear the video ending and the screams of the crowd getting louder, closes his eyes and sucks in as much air as he can. He holds it in his lungs as one of the crew counts down, lets it out as they’re launched back onto the stage and thanks every higher being he can think of when he realizes that their next few songs are performed sitting down.

As he turns off of his platform, he catches Louis’ eye, shifts over so that their shoulders bump as they pass each other on the way to their seats. He feels fingertips brush against the small of his back, hears Louis mutter, “Later,” and stutters out a laugh, concentrates on getting to the stairs without falling over.

Niall is watching him, eyes twinkling knowingly, as Harry settles onto one of the steps facing him. Harry presses his lips together and wiggles his fingers at Niall in greeting, then blows him a kiss. The audience screams and he and Niall laugh at each other, and Harry feels the tension in his muscles ebb away, relaxes against the stair behind him and presses his fingers absently to his throbbing collarbone as Zayn launches into the opening verse of Summer Love.

They’re two-thirds of the way through the concert. Only eight more songs, and then he and Louis will be on their way back to a hotel room and a kind sized bed and a solid eight hours of undisturbed alone time. He can do this.

**Author's Note:**

> Like all the other ficlets, this was quick and un-betad, so let me know if you find typos or anything. And as usual, feedback, here or on [tumblr](http://supernope.tumblr.com/), is always appreciated! <3


End file.
